


In the Eye of the Beholder

by wingsofbadass



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:57:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofbadass/pseuds/wingsofbadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco loves watching Jean. And Jean loves being watched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Foxberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/gifts).



> Shoutout to Bel who came up with the mirror idea! And as always many thanks to Poppy for the feedback and support.

The room was quiet, apart from Jean humming a song Marco didn't recognize while he got ready for bed.

Marco was done already, sprawled across Jean's bed in boxers and a t-shirt and absently scrolling down 9gag on his phone to wind down for the night. Unlike Marco, who just brushed his teeth and took off his clothes and smashed into bed, Jean always took a little longer in the evenings, using the familiarity and routine of the movements to settle his mind.

With his attention only half on his phone, Marco watched him brush the gel out of his hair, remove the contacts from his his eyes and put them away, pull off his shirt and let it slide to the carpet carelessly after noticing he'd gotten tooth paste on it, carefully dabbing moisturizer onto his face.

Marco loved watching Jean, loved following his graceful motions and the quiet confidence with which he moved through his space. Because for once, this wasn't the Jean show. He didn't bother with what he looked like in these moments. It was just Jean, shedding all pretenses and thoughts. It made Marco feel special.

Interrupting his humming, Jean made a disgruntled noise. Marco lowered his phone to the mattress with finality and turned onto his side to look at Jean, who was standing in front of the full-length mirror, examining his hair. He allowed himself a moment to drag his gaze along Jean's slender frame, along the cute little curve of his butt in the gray sweats, along the bare arc of his back, the shifting of his shoulder blades as he ran his hands through his hair.

“My roots look ridiculous,” Jean grumbled, not needing to turn around and meet Marco's gaze to know he was listening. “Do you think you could spare an hour before your shift tomorrow?”

“Hhhhmm, I don't know,” Marco mused theatrically, propping his head up in his palm. “What do I get out of it?”

At that, Jean did look back at him, grin wide. “How about an extremely good-looking boyfriend?”

“Already got that, root or no roots.”

Adorably, the faintest blush flitted over Jean's fair skin at the flattery. No matter how much Jean tried to keep up the facade of cocky confidence, he was a sucker for compliments. Marco's compliments, specifically. But it was only a brief flicker of pleased modesty, before Jean forced the swagger to take over his features again.

“Heh, true,” he smirked. Turning around to face Marco, he continued, “How about you come over after work tomorrow and I'll cook whatever you want and rub whatever you want?”

A soft laugh escaped Marco at that. He rolled off the bed and approached under Jean's smug gaze, until he could wrap his arms around his bare waist. Automatically, Jean's hands slid up Marco's biceps, up to his shoulders and around to link behind his neck.

“Whatever I want?” Marco asked, pitching his voice low and nudging his nose against Jean's. He spread the fingers of one hand wide and smoothed it up Jean's spine.

Jean hummed in confirmation, before echoing, “Whatever you want.”

“Even my gross, smelly feet?”

Jean's laugh was warm breath fanning out across Marco's lips in little bursts. “Yeah, even those.”

Their mouths met for a soft kiss, lingering and sweet. A moment later, Jean pressed himself closer with a sigh, one hand straying up into Marco's hair.

Even after about three months of being with Jean, Marco still couldn't deal with the way if felt when they kissed. Deliciously tumultuous fluttering erupted from the pit of his stomach, spreading through his chest and leaving him warm, buzzing, dazed. An embarrassing sound rose from his throat and he dug his fingertips into Jean's back in the hopes of grounding himself.

“I love you,” was the next sigh that floated from Jean's lips against Marco's. When he returned the words, his voice was a rasp that made Jean smile. Not smug. Just happy.

Marco deepened the kiss, eager to revel in the heat of Jean's mouth, and they lost themselves in the wet slide of their lips and tongues. As always, they moved perfectly together, in a melodic rhythm of shaky breaths and the soft sounds of their mouths connecting and parting again and again. Jean slid the hand that was not lost in Marco's hair to the edge of his jaw, angling him the way he wanted him, before his touch softened and his thumb began to stroke gentle patterns into Marco's skin.

When it become difficult to breathe, Marco strayed away from Jean's slick lips, breathing long kisses down his stubbly cheek, down his throat, to the juncture between neck and shoulder. With a warm hum, Jean tipped his head back. Marco loved the way Jean's fingers tightened in his hair, encouraging, pressing him closer.

Over Jean's shoulder, Marco thew a glance at their reflection in the mirror, watched his hands trail over the skin of Jean's back, the way Jean was squirming into his touch. The sight shot a hot thrill through his veins. God, he loved watching Jean.

“Hey, Jean,” he breathed against sweet-smelling skin, eyes on the flexing muscles in Jean's back as he pressed more firmly against him. “When was the last time you jerked off?”

Jean faltered a little, caught off guard. Marco felt him swallow, before replying. “W-what? Why?”

Hoping to reassure his boyfriend, Marco pressed another gentle kiss to the side of his throat. Jean's pulse was a jittery thing beneath his lips. “Just curious.”

“Uhm, yesterday morning,” Jean said. He seemed to hesitate, before adding, “in the shower.”

The mental image made Marco groan weakly. As he pictured Jean, naked and wet and touching himself, he rubbed his hips against Jean's, pleased to find Jean meeting the pressure with his own.

“Did you think of me?” he asked, with a breathless voice that betrayed just how much the thought turned him on. Jean shuddered in his arms.

“Yeah,” was the breathy reply. Gently, Jean tugged Marco back up by the hair, until he could kiss him again. There was a new hunger to it now, as they swallowed each other's soft sounds. Marco's mind was still swimming with thoughts of Jean jerking himself off underneath the spray of the shower, mouth slack and eyes fluttering closed. Maybe moaning Marco's name.

“What,” he asked between kisses, “did you think about?”

“Your mouth,” Jean answered, breath and words searing across Marco's skin, “on my dick.”

Marco could feel himself twitch in his underwear. Desperate fingers pulled Jean even closer against him, as a growl spilled from his mouth into Jean's.

“Would you,” he started, then swallowed around his dry throat. “Would you show me?”

Jean pulled back a fraction, looking Marco in the eye with a mixture of surprise and want. “Show you?”

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Marco used his grip on Jean to turn him around until he was facing the mirror. He leaned his chin on Jean's left shoulder and met the wide-eyed gaze of Jean's reflection.

“I'd love to watch you,” he confessed, his voice low.

A more violent blush than before flashed up Jean's face, spreading over his cheeks, his neck, even down to his chest. For a moment, Marco was worried he'd gone too far, overstepped some boundary he hadn't been aware of, but then he focused on the look in Jean's eyes.

The way Jean was looking back at him was hazy, with his pupils blown out, and he was so _turned on_.

Marco allowed himself to wrap his arms back around Jean's waist, palms pressed into his flushed skin, and melted against the curve of his body. Beautifully, Jean leaned against him with a sigh and tipped his head back to rest it against Marco's shoulder, exposing the pale column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed.

“Have you imagined me?” Jean asked huskily, as he threaded the fingers of their hands together against the flat of his stomach. Letting his gaze wander down the gorgeous line of Jean's body, Marco noticed the outline of Jean's hardening dick, obvious under the flimsy material of the sweatpants.

“So many times,” was Marco's honest reply. He pressed more open-mouthed kisses along the warm skin of Jean's shoulder, then let their intertwined hands wander up slowly, the backs of their fingers teasing a trail of goosebumps over his ribs. “Please show me.”

Jean closed his eyes at the sound of the bare want in Marco's plea. He twisted slightly, tilting his head until they could kiss again, and the frantic way Jean moved his mouth with Marco's had heat trembling up his spine. Releasing Marco's hands from his own, Jean tugged down the waistlines of both his sweats and his briefs, pulling them down to his thighs and wiggling them the rest of the way off. The small laugh that escaped Marco earned him a teasing bite to his lower lip.

Pulling free and looking back into the mirror, Marco saw Jean kick his crumpled clothes to the side, leaving himself completely bare in front of Marco's hungry gaze. And hard. Already, Marco ached to touch him, to wrap his fingers around Jean's cock and feel the silky skin, but instead he tightened his hold around Jean's waist, pulled him back against his own hardness with a groan.

Jean's tongue darted out to wet his lips and when he saw the way Marco's gaze lingered on that tiny movement, his lips curved into a pleased smile. If Marco had known how much Jean would enjoy this, he would've asked him ages ago. He should've known, though. Jean loved putting on a show after all, loved having all eyes, all attention on him. Of course he'd love this.

The drag of Jean's hands over his own body was achingly slow. He raised them to his neck first, fanning his elegant fingers wide, then trailed them down over his collar bones, over the subtle rise of his pecs. His nipples had perked up already and Jean let the backs of his fingers dance over them loosely, teasing himself and arching slightly into his own touch. The shift of Jean's stomach muscles under his skin stole the breath right out of Marco's lungs. Jean heard his choked sound and answered it with a warm hum, as he kept the feathery touches up.

Marco knew what had to follow next. The piercing in Jean's left nipple glinted in the reflection, drawing his eye. He knew how much Jean loved having it played with and could only imagine he was holding off to build himself up. Or maybe he was aware that Marco wanted him to do it.

When he finally tugged at it, making himself shudder, Marco couldn't keep his hips from grinding forward against Jean's ass to relieve some of the pressure building in him and he muffled his grunt of pleasure by kissing wetly up Jean's neck. Jean pulled at his piercing again, a little harder this time, and a brittle moan rose from his throat, accompanying the twitch of his still untouched dick.

“Oh, Jean,” Marco sighed onto his heated skin. “You're so damn hot.”

Praise always had Jean melting in Marco's arms, helpless as he was against the thrill it obviously gave him. Another groan was wrenched from his lips at Marco's words and he raised one hand back up to bury it in black hair, to tug Marco's mouth against his skin more firmly. Marco licked and sucked obligingly, not hard enough to leave any marks, but just hard enough to watch goosebumps erupt along his path.

Jean's other hand drifted down towards his stomach, where the muscles jumped under the attention. In their first night together, Marco had quickly discovered just how sensitive Jean was there and to see that even Jean's own touch had that effect on the area was so sexy he could barely think straight. Their gazes met in the mirror once more, brown sweltering into amber. Marco could hear Jean's heavy breath next to his ear, could see the way his chest was heaving just a bit too much, displaying plainly how much it excited Jean to be watched like this.

A playful glint in Jean's eyes was all the warning he got, before Jean arched his back once more, pressing his ass overwhelmingly against Marco's solid dick. Unprepared for the sensation, Marco buckled forwards slightly with a gasp, hips rocking into the softness that was rubbing against him so tortuously. There was that smugness on Jean's face again and he ground his hips back some more, working up a slow rhythm of friction that felt way, _way_ too good.

“Aren't you supposed to please yourself?” Marco asked, his voice out of his control now, just as sluggish as his mind from the thick fog of arousal.

“I am,” Jean breathed, rolling, winding his whole body against Marco's. And when Marco looked down he saw a thick drop of precome leak from the tip of his flushed, tragically untouched dick.

“Fuck, you're killing me,” Marco whimpered, squeezing Jean's middle with needy hands. Jean's hand left his stomach to slide down Marco's forearm, before he took a hold of Marco's fingers and brought them up to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to his knuckles. If Marco hadn't been able to see clearly how aroused Jean was, how his hard dick was straining towards his stomach, begging to be touched, he could 've almost believed Jean wasn't affected at all.

They brought their lips together for a heated kiss again, devouring each others shaky breaths and moans, a wordless tale of how badly they wanted each other. Overcome with the intensity of his desire for Jean, Marco closed his eyes. Just for a little bit, he needed to just _feel_ him, drown himself in the sensation, the scent, the taste of this unbelievable man he got to call his.

After a moment, Jean extracted his hand from Marco's. When he felt it hit the arm he still had slung around Jean's waist, he knew he must've trailed it back down his own body. The fingers danced over Marco's wrist and then continued their path down. Excitement shot through Marco's stomach at the thought that Jean would finally, finally touch himself the way he'd been dreaming of for weeks, but Jean was still kissing him like he might die if they stopped, messily, filthily, and Marco couldn't find it in himself to pull away and watch the path of Jean's hand in the mirror.

He knew the moment Jean touched his cock. His whole body jerked forward and he moaned loudly into their kiss, absolutely shameless, and it set Marco on fire. He did part from Jean's lips, then, with a soft sound and rested his chin on Jean's shoulder, gaze fixed on their reflection.

Jean was rubbing a flat palm over the underside of his dick, hips tilting forward into the friction. He needed more, Marco could tell. Again, he had to fight the desire to take care of Jean himself, to jerk him off roughly, just the way he knew Jean liked it. He felt needy, almost as if he were the one who yearned to be touched desperately, despite the insane friction on his dick whenever he rolled his hips forward against Jean's.

“Come on, please,” Marco begged raggedly. Jean let out a giddy laugh, like he was high on this feeling, on the way he was being worshipped. It was a throaty sound that turned into a moan, as he had mercy on Marco and wrapped his fingers around his cock.

The moan Jean breathed was as much an expression of relief as one of pleasure. He let his head fall back against Marco's shoulder and began stroking himself slowly, grip tight. Marco could see Jean slipping into the sensation, letting his eyes flutter closed, letting his other hand drop from its grip on Marco's hair and dangle down to the side as his body melted against Marco's.

“That's right,” Marco encouraged, his voice thick with lust, “let yourself go.”

He brought a hand to Jean's side, smoothed his knuckles slowly up and down the soft skin there and watched him shiver beautifully. The strokes of Jean's right hand over his dick got quicker and soon he was jerking his hips forward, fucking the tight ring of his fingers, desperately chasing his high. His voice had risen into an ongoing string of moans, as though he could no longer breathe without giving voice to his pleasure.

“God, Jean, you're so gorgeous,” Marco groaned, whose own hips were thrusting forward, rubbing his clothed dick between Jean's butt cheeks over and over again. The friction felt good, so good, and the sight of Jean falling apart in his arms had him losing control far more quickly than he'd anticipated. He barely knew where to look, so his gaze kept darting from Jean's blissfully tense face, his parted lips and scrunched up brows, over his tensing stomach, to the way Jean was jerking himself off with a firm grip.

When Marco pressed his hand to the flat of Jean's chest to hold him closer still, he could feel the erratic thrum of his heart, mirroring his own that was bursting with far more than desire.

“Talk to m-me,” Jean choked and he opened his blazing eyes to meet Marco's.

After pressing some more wet kisses to Jean's skin, Marco did as he was asked, holding the needy gaze in the mirror.

“Do you even know how sexy you are?” he whispered into Jean's ear, panting, letting his hot breath trail over the thin film of sweat on his neck. As expected, Jean shivered, breath hitching. More precome beaded from the slit in his dick, creating slick noises with every pump of Jean's hand. “Watching you is even better than anything I ever imagined. Look at you, you're fucking perfect.”

Actually, they looked perfect together. For a moment, Marco let himself admire the contrast between their skin tones, most striking where his arms were wrapped around Jean's waist and chest. Jean was just a tiniest bit shorter than Marco, a little slimmer than him, his contours fitting flawlessly against Marco's, and he liked to imagine they'd been made for each other.

Jean's free hand flew up to clutch at the one on his chest, as though he needed something to hold onto.

“Hahh, Marco, I'm so close.”

That made Marco's hips stutter. With his temple pressed to Jean's, he gave a slow, rough thrust between Jean's cheeks, dragging his dick along the tight cleft and moaning brokenly. Encouraged, Jean squeezed his dick more tightly, stroked himself more quickly, his movements now concentrated on the tip, and suddenly, with a high-pitched whine, his knees buckled. Marco gasped in surprise, tightening his hold on Jean and holding up his weight.

“F-fuck, _fuck_ , I'm gonna come,” Jean slurred, as his eyes fluttered closed. More whimpers dripped from his lips, an unstoppable flow of lewd sounds that was about to drive Marco out of his mind. Jean's hand squeezed his.

“Yes, God, yes, I wanna see you come so badly,” Marco blurted helplessly, so lost in the feeling, so consumed with the fire watching Jean had lit in him. Jean was crumbling under his gaze. He had reduced Jean to this whining mess just by watching him and it was so damn _hot_ he didn't even know how to handle it. His gaze was still flitting all over Jean's body, trying to soak in every minute twitch and tremble. “I've got you, just come, baby, I've got you.”

A couple more of jerks of his hand and Jean was gone. His moans pitched high as he came, body pulled taut by his orgasm, back arched, before the sounds subsided and he rode it in overpowered silence. Jean was breath-taking like this, adrift in his moment of pleasure, while his hand worked him through his orgasm and thick spurts of come dripped over his hand, down onto the wooden tiles beneath their feet.

Marco couldn't take it. As Jean began to come down, Marco was still rubbing himself on him, the movements of his hips losing rhythm. The sight of Jean coming like that was burning through his veins and he could feel the heat, the pressure in his gut rising, rising, and he couldn't think – all he knew was it felt so good, so damn good.

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, Marco let them fall closed, but he could still see the way absolute extasy had drawn itself across Jean's features in his mind's eye. With a hoarse cry, Marco fell into hot bliss, hips jerking and body shuddering with the intensity of his release.

It took them both a moment, in which they they kept clutching at each other, to catch their breaths. Jean gave one last mindless whimper, before he leaned his weight off Marco and untangled himself enough to be able to turn to face Marco.

Wordlessly, Jean pressed his open mouth to Marco's and they kissed languidly, both making blissed-out little noises with each move. Jean's arms wound around Marco's neck, but thankfully, he held the dirty hand angled away from his hair.

“Holy shit,” Jean breathed eventually. He nuzzled against Marco in that loving way he rarely displayed outside of post-orgasmic haze.

“Holy shit,” Marco parroted, because he wasn't sure he would be able to form words by himself, causing Jean to laugh softly against his cheek. Something in Marco's chest fluttered giddily.

“You came in your –”

“Don't say it!” Marco buried his burning face in the crook of Jean's shoulder.

“Aww, don't be embarrassed,” Jean teased, stroking soothing fingers through his hair. “That was really hot.” When Marco did nothing but give a flustered whine, Jean pressed a gentle kiss to his ear. “Let's get cleaned up, okay?”

They barely managed to stop kissing long enough to stumble into the bathroom, but after they'd wiped each other's skin with wet towels, they fell into Jean's bed, naked. Legs tangled and bodies close, they lay whispering in the dark, until satiation dragged them into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback would be absolutely charming :)
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://wingsofbadass.tumblr.com/)!


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